


4am

by VividMusings



Category: Javier Pena - Fandom, Narcos (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Javier Peña/Reader - Freeform, Language, One Shot, Period-Typical Sexism, Reader-Insert, javier peña - Freeform, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29037516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VividMusings/pseuds/VividMusings
Summary: The words were starting to blur together the longer Javier stared at them. He’d lost track of his place on the page hours ago, his eyes going back and forth between the reports in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other.He simply could not focus. And it was all because of you.
Kudos: 11





	4am

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! I've enjoyed writing for a while but this is the first time I'm publicly posting my work. Usually I keep these reader-inserts to myself, a bit of self-indulgence with my fave characters, but felt inspired reading so many of the amazing works on here that I made an account and decided to post one myself. Hope you enjoy!

The words were starting to blur together the longer Javier stared at them. He’d lost track of his place on the page hours ago, his eyes going back and forth between the reports in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other. He hated bringing work home, but he needed to get ahead and study these case files if he wanted to look like somewhat of a competent agent at the briefing next week. At least, that’s what he told himself to keep going, but it wasn’t really working. He could feel the start of a headache forming and brushed a thumb between his furrowed brows to ease it, breathing out a heavy sigh as he sank further into the worn-out divot of his couch cushion.

He simply could not focus. And it was all because of you.

Javier tossed the manila folder aside and rubbed roughly at his eyes, the events from earlier that week at the forefront of his thoughts.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Mondays weren’t known to be the best at the Embassy, but today was an exceptionally uneventful start to the week. Coms were dead silent, surveillance hadn’t picked up even the slightest bit of chatter, Murphy had taken the day off to spend time with his wife, and Javier was restless and bored out of his mind. He’d already reread every file they had on Escobar and his henchmen, he didn’t need to pry information from an informant, and no leads had come his way; there was virtually nothing for him to do. He was itching for action.

Javier looked over at you, across the wobbly desks you shared, as you read over a small stack of reports at your workstation, brows drawn together in thought. Your mouth pulled into a slight grimace as you skimmed the page, though he wasn’t sure if it was because of the gruesome descriptions he was sure were detailed in the report or a headache similar to his own. Even with that unpleasant look, you had a regal aura emanating from everything you do; Javier would know, though he’d never admit he’d stolen many glances at you several times throughout his day just to get a glimpse at you in your element.

Javier had only just resigned and settled on staring at the way your ballpoint pen twirled hypnotically around your manicured fingers when you suddenly slammed it on the desk and stood, startling him.

“I’m getting coffee. You want anything?” you had asked, organizing the strewn files across your desk that you’d also given up on reviewing.

Javier was about to respond when Ben barged through the tiny office space. “You takin’ orders?” he called, voice booming as he leaned against the desk across from your shared ones, flipping through the local Medellin newspaper. “I’ll have an Americano, no cream, two sugars,” he said without looking up. “And make it snappy, doll, I’ve got a meeting with the Ambassador in 10.”

To be honest, Javier had barely ever noticed when Ben Walker was in the room; not because the man was quiet, but mostly because he was always prattling off about his latest nightly escapades with the women of Medellin, his self-righteous southern accent filling the room with pointless stories. Javier usually paid no mind to the younger agent’s commentary, but today, his eyes widened in shock. He glanced over at you and found your calm posture a bit unsettling, until he noticed how the grip on your pen had tightened. Your eyes were closed as you took in a deep inhale, seemingly steeling yourself. Javier held his breath, certain you were about to chuck the pen across the room with exact precision into Ben’s jugular, but you stood still.

Javier suddenly had half a mind to defend his partner. “She’s an agent, not your personal assistant, Walker,” he muttered, giving Ben an incredulous look.

“What?” Ben scoffed, his face the definition of arrogance. He set aside the newspaper, standing up and walking over to their shared desk space. “It’s not like she’s doing any real work, anyways. Might as well fetch some fuel for the team.” Ben pointed languidly in your direction, much too close to your face for your liking.

To anyone else, you are the picture of professionalism, but Javier knows you well enough to know you’re about to lose it on the younger agent. They’re subtle actions: slowly lowering the pen to your desk, lips pressed together, hands gripping the edges of your chair, back rigid and straight. He knows you’re about to go off on this kid because you’ve looked this exact way when you were about to tell Javier off for doing some stupid shit.

Ben, oblivious to all this, continues with a roll of his eyes, “Listen, Peña, we all know she’s just a pretty little side piece for you and Murphy. Let the girl get us some – ”

Javier was about two seconds away from punching the lights out of this guy, standing up to do just that but to his surprise, your hand shot out to grab Ben’s wrist, the other coming to wrap around the index finger that was in your face. In one swift move, you had his hand pushed down and nearly all the way back to his forearm in a painful, defensive grip. Ben’s knee slammed into the ground and he cried out, “My hand! That’s my trigger finger!”

“Get your own damn coffee, doll,” you murmured, eerily calm as you lean forward to address him. “Unless you want more to worry about than shooting straight.” The icy threat laced in your voice does nothing to extinguish your burning gaze, so much so that Javier has to physically take a step back. It’s not directed at him, but he can feel your rage flowing off you in waves and he does not want to get in the middle of it.

Ben’s face twisted in anguish as you kept your hold steady, pressing down harder. The whole office had dissolved into quiet chatter, not taking too much notice to the escalated situation in front of Javier, who stood frozen behind his desk. You cock an eyebrow up at Ben, who’s sneering but reluctantly conceded and nods his head up at you, lips pressed tight. You dropped your grip harshly and he hunched over, cradling his hand before standing on shaky knees to his full height.

“You’re going to be late,” you stated simply, holding his gaze and lifting a hand to gesture towards the Ambassador’s office. Ben huffed a breath and stalked off, fuming.

Javier remembers staring at you, both in concern and genuine awe over what had transpired. You turned to him, straightening out the front of your blazer, and he couldn’t quite make out the look in your eyes now.

“Do you want anything, Peña?” you ask, and he notices your voice is clipped tight.

“No, I’m good, compañera,” he says, and he’s about to ask if you’re okay, but you nod at him once, grab your purse, and walk away, heels clicking away from him on the concrete floor. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The memory of that day in the office, and the rest of the week that followed, caused a gaping pit to form in Javier’s stomach and more questions in his brain than he had answers for. Was it a common thing for Ben to treat you like that? Javier couldn’t help but wonder how many times he – or any other men in the office, for that matter ¬– had tried to degrade you like this. Why didn’t he notice before? He knew you were strong, of that there was no doubt, but it lit a fire under his ass to witness firsthand the kind of bullshit you had to put up with. Javier made sure to pull Ben aside later that day and take advantage of his seniority to scare some sense into him, who had the common decency to look threatened as he was pushed harshly against the wall of an empty corridor by the senior agent.

You’d been different ever since the incident; seemingly on autopilot, expertly deflecting any personal questions and focusing solely on the tasks at hand. You’d raided another coke lab in the jungle together, which usually gets a rile out of you, but your sassy, playful demeanor – that he wouldn’t admit aloud he’d grown fond of over the years of working with you – was replaced with a carefully guarded wall, and Javier was starting to worry.

Before he could second guess himself, Javier downed the last of his whiskey and reached for his phone on the coffee table, dialing your number with practiced ease. As the phone rang, he thought for a brief moment that he could’ve just walked down the single flight of stairs to your apartment door if he needed to talk to you so badly. Though, there was no guarantee you would answer. He couldn’t shake the feeling that sat deep in his chest, his need to know you were okay. Was that weird? You might not even answer, so he’d just end up leaving a dumb voicemail saying… what? He’s concerned for your well-being after witnessing a sexist situation and only just now thought he should make more of an effort to reach out? All this time knowing you, and he’d never gone so far out of his way to express concern for you before. Why hadn’t he? Why was he starting now? 

Yeah, he’s an idiot. Doubt ate away at Javier’s resolve, but before he could chicken out and hang up, you answered on the third ring.

“Hello?” you questioned through a yawn, your voice sounding adorably groggy on the other line. Javier couldn’t help the small grin that spread across his face, knowing at least that you wouldn’t be able to see it.

“Hey, compañera,” he replied easily, though his voice came out shakier than he intended. “Did I wake you?”

“Mm… yeah, what’s wrong?”

“Why do you assume something’s wrong?”

“You never call me this late, what happened?”

Your voice sounded clearer then, slightly startled. Javier flipped the cell from his ear to check the time. It was nearly 4 in the morning. His gut wrenched and a wave of guilt washed over him.

“Oh, shit. It’s fine. I didn’t realize – “

“Are you okay?” He could hear the shift of fabric being pulled aside, doors opening. “Shit, can you tell me where you are? I’ll grab Murphy and we can – “

“I’m fine, I’m home. I’m perfectly fine,” he cuts in, trying to be reassuring, but he couldn’t help the confusion that crept into his voice. He didn’t know what to expect from you when he called, but it certainly wasn’t this kind of reaction. He also definitely didn’t mean to wake you up in the middle of the night. You sighed heavily and let out a frustrated groan on the other line. He could hear the creak of a bedframe through the receiver.

“I don’t believe you. I’m coming up.”

“What? No, don’t. You don’t have to –”

“You’re a wanted man, Peña,” you reply tersely, and he can hear the clunky shift of something sliding open, the telltale clicks of a gun safety. “I never know if the next call I get from you is going to be a drunk butt dial or some bastard sicario beating you within an inch of your life.”

He’s silent at that. You’re not wrong about either of those things being a possibility, but he hates that your first thought when he calls is that he’s in harm’s way. A weird flutter flurries in his chest, not one he’s unfamiliar with when it comes to you, but he clears his throat and wills it away. “Wouldn’t I be speaking in some sort of code if – “

“Shut up and stay on the phone.”

Your tone of voice leaves no room for debate, and Javier hears a door slam, keys jingling. Still, he opens his mouth to reply but stops when he hears a knock on his front door. That couldn’t have been you. How did you get up the stairs that fast? He walks towards the door and, with a glance through the peephole, Javier sees your rigid stance at the ready, gun firm in both hands while your shoulder pinches the cellphone tight at your ear. You’re wearing a matching tank and shorts pajama set, a thin, silk robe tied loosely around your waist. He shakes his head at the ridiculous sight and swings the door open at the same time you whip your gun up to his face.

“You gonna shoot me?” he asks, and his teasing voice reverbs through the receiver.

Your eyes widen slightly, but you click your tongue in frustration as you flip your phone shut and shove it into the pocket of your robe, pushing past him into his apartment. Your gun is cocked and your eyes dart across the room, certain there’s danger lurking around the corner. Javier sighs as he shuts the door behind you.

“Can you not- compañera, there’s no one here. Put that down.”

You forgo a response as you go to do a full sweep of the apartment, gun held firmly in front of you as you walk from room to room. Javier knew there was no stopping you, so he resigns to wait in the living room with his hands on his hips, looking down at his feet.

“Do you really think if there was someone here,” he starts, hearing you swing open what was probably the door to his bathroom, “that I wouldn’t be able to handle it myself?”

“Knowing you, probably not,” you sigh, rounding the corner and lowering the gun with your shoulders. “I can’t count the number of times I’ve had to swoop in and save your ass.”

He grins slightly and lifts his hands, relenting to that truth. “Fair enough,” he says, and you smile at him – barely, it tugs the corners of your lips - but it’s the first time he’s seen you smile in days and he holds on to it desperately.

“Sorry to have scared you,” he continues. “I promise I’m alive.”

You nod and hum an acknowledgment, quiet for a moment. You set your gun down on the kitchen counter before turning to him. “What did you call me for, then?” you ask, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your robe.

Javier’s stomach lurched. He didn’t really plan ahead for this, nor for the conversation with his partner to even get this far. Could he bullshit his way through? He takes a breath before responding. “What are you doing up this late?”

You huffed a laugh, no humor reaching your eyes. “I was asleep. You’re the one who called me, you dumbass,” you say.

“I don’t know, it looked like you were ready to fight the entire Medellin cartel just now, silk robe be damned. Very awake, if you ask me.”

“You’re such a comé mierda, you know that?” you complained, and he laughed lightly at that. There was no malice in your tone, and he held onto the lighthearted way you spoke. “Can you answer the question?”

He was stalling and they both knew it. Javier closed his eyes and leaned his head on the door frame, pressing his lips together as he thought of what in his arsenal of excuses would warrant a phone call this late. Nothing came up – at least, nothing that you would believe. You were incredibly perceptive when it came to him; he wondered why sometimes. Still, he tried a couple different options that came to mind.

“Well,” he starts slowly, drawing out the “L” on his tongue as he stares at his feet, avoiding your gaze, “I’m nursing a bottle of Old Parr that I could use help finishing off.”

He nods to said bottle and the empty glass on the coffee table and you nod slightly, inquisitive if not confused. You don’t even look over, your gaze burning right through him, and he hopes you can’t see the bead of sweat rolling down his neck.

“Nope,” you say eventually, voice light but eyes narrowed at your partner. Javier sighs and tries something else.

“Okay, well. Really, I’ve been sitting for the past few hours reading through these reports, and I got stuck on one that just doesn’t add up,” he says unconvincingly, though that much is true and he gestures to the abandoned stack of files also on his coffee table, as if that would help his case.

“You’re asking for my help with this in the middle of the night?”

“Yes?” He questions, and he knows he messed up.

“Do you think I’m stupid, Peña?” you say suddenly, and he takes a step back.

“What? No, wait, that’s not¬ – “ He groans in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose as he searches for the right words that wouldn’t scare you away.

“It’s 4 in the morning,” you say, not waiting for his response. “I’m exhausted. My nerves are shot. I come running up here thinking your life is in danger –“

“I told you I was fine!”

“ – only for you to stand there and not even try to come up with a good excuse for scaring the shit out of me? How about the truth, Peña?”

Only now does Javier see the shadow of dark circles under your eyes, the way you grip both your elbows and almost fold in on yourself. You look weary, and he’s never felt more like an asshole in his life… which is saying something. Why couldn’t he just come out and say it?

“Alright, you’re right,” he mutters, deflating. He takes a deep breath, and you cross your arms over your chest and stare at him, waiting. “I was just… I was thinking about what happened this week and I wanted to hear your – I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Javier tried not to cringe at his inability push the words out of his mouth; he blamed it on the whiskey and the way your eyes were piercing daggers at him. His heart was pounding.

“What happened this week?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “That wasn’t my first jungle cruise, you know.”

“No, no, I mean what happened with Walker.”

Your lips press together, gaze unmoving, and Javier can see you hardening into stone right in front of him, blocking him from getting through to you.

“I told you I’m fine,” you say, and he wants to yell from the frustration of it all.

“Are you?”

“Yes. I deal with that shit on the daily.”

Javier’s eyes widened at that. “This isn’t the first time?”

You let out a heavy breath, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose. “No, Peña, it isn’t. It’s practically normal at this point. There’s not a single man in that office who looks twice at an agent like me and thinks I’m anything more than a glorified secretary.” You say the words as if they leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

“That’s not true,” Javier offers, but his voice falters, and you give him a look. You have to know that he and Murphy would be lost without you, don’t you? That they see you as an equal – no, an even better agent than the two of them combined? That all this time together has only made Javier look at you in total awe and reverence? Javier’s not so sure now, seeing you smile ruefully up at him.

He really is an idiot.

“It is,” you sigh, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly but nothing could mask the hurt Javier saw in your eyes. “You wouldn’t understand, Peña. You and Murph – don’t get me wrong, I love working with you guys – but you’re the golden boys. No one bothers you. I have to work twice as hard to be looked at with the same amount of respect, and even then, I have to be picture-perfect, flawless, or everything I do is for shit. It’s exhausting and humiliating.”

Javier’s heart was racing – this is the first time you’ve opened up to him all week. Hell, probably the first time in all the years he’s known you. His mind swirled with different emotions, but his chest burned with the question he’d been turning over in his head all week. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because I’m a big girl, okay? I can handle myself.”

Your response was immediate, almost patronizing, and he couldn’t help but scoff. “Clearly you can,” he mutters, harsher than he intended, but he was so done with your obvious dismissal of him, of any outside help and concern.

You stiffen at his words, jaw set tight.

“Okay, what the hell is that supposed to mean?” you question.

“You’ve been acting different all week.”

“I’ve been doing my job, Peña.”

“Can you stop that?”

“Stop what?”

“There you go again, you’re acting – “

“Why are you trying to start problems with me? Did you really call me at 4 in the morning to argue? If I did something to you, please, tell me. Because clearly, I’m too much of a  
dumb ‘side piece’ to know what I’m doing wrong here, right? Is that it?”

Javier feels like he can’t breathe, the accusations hitting him like a sucker punch to the stomach. “When have I ever –“ he starts, letting out an offended scoff, “compañera, are you really putting Walker’s words in my mouth right now? I have never thought that of you, or said anything –”

“Por favor, Peña,” you laugh bitterly, but it’s watery and he can tell you’re swallowing down your emotions. “Spare me. I wouldn’t put it past you if you did, but I really don’t need you, of all people, coming for me right now –” You try to push past him towards the front door, but he grips your elbow and pulls you closer, desperation in his eyes.

“Would you stop cutting me off and let me talk?”

“Then get to the point Javier! What do you want from me?”

His name leaving your mouth in a broken cry stuns him, the way you don’t even try to free yourself from his grip, and Javier finds himself searching your eyes, nearly brimming with tears, for an answer.

Some unspoken force makes him do something he wasn’t planning on doing, but all at once it makes sense. Why he’s been tormented with thoughts of you, the gaping pit in his stomach at the thought of you being restless, the lingering guilt at his complete lack of awareness of how you were being treated, disrespected and looked at like anything but the fantastic agent you are. The amazing woman you are, the one he’s never admitted he cares for aloud. It’s too late, and words aren’t enough anymore, so he has to show you.

Suddenly, he’s grabbing your face in his hands, rushing forward to press his lips against yours. It’s not heated, but it’s urgent, and Javier tries to pour every feeling he has for you into it, as if it might be the only moment that he can show you how much he truly cares. How much he’s stared at you, lost in thought, or stood back-to-back with you shooting at Escobar’s sicarios and how much he wished for you both to survive the day, just so he might finally muster up the courage to show you how much you mean to him. He’s never hesitating to do so ever again.

Javier pulls back quickly and you’re frozen, only for a second, which is enough to make him think he’s read the situation and your entire professional relationship completely wrong. An apology is on the tip of his tongue, but then you cradle his hand where it lays on your cheek and lean forward, pressing your lips against his again. Soft, tender, and full of feeling; Javier revels in it for the briefest moment.

You pull away a few seconds later, breathing in deeply. “What’d you do that for?”

“Sorry, I – “

“Don’t you dare take it back, Peña. Why?”

He sighs as he rubs a thumb across the curve of your cheek. “Because you’re frustrating as hell to get through to.”

Javier looks down at you, leaning his forehead against yours and watches you close your eyes, breathe in tandem with him, and all he could think about was every opportunity he’s missed to tell you how much you mean to him, to show you his appreciation for you, to try and help and understand and – it was all too much. He felt wave after wave of guilt and a stubborn resolution to set things right, to never make you doubt how highly he regarded you ever again. He almost leans forward to capture your lips a third time, the emotional discovery a bit overwhelming for him, but you stop him with a gentle press of your hand on his chest. You lift your gaze up at him, eyes shining.

“How long have you wanted to kiss me?” you ask.

“You first,” he replies, and you blink up at him, pressing your lips together and trying not to smile, but it escapes out the corner of your mouth anyways.

“Probably our first stakeout,” you confess, and Javier remembers it well.

“Ah, yes. Summer ’82.”

“We shouldn’t have brought along that bottle of whiskey; it always spells trouble.”

“I think we had fun – “

“How long, Javi?” you ask again, but more fondly this time.

“Always.”

You laugh breathily, shaking your head at him. “For a man who’s a constant flirt, you’re shit at showing you actually care.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

You smile tearfully up at him, and Javier wants to kiss you again, badly. But he swallows down the urge, thinking you need to hear his words more in this moment.

“I’m sorry, compañera. I mean it. should’ve been there for you, spoken up for you, done something – you shouldn’t have to deal with this in the first place. You shouldn’t have to guess that your partners care for you or think the world of you.”

“It’s okay, Javi. You don’t need to – “

“Listen, I know you can handle your own. I know that. But just know that you don’t always have to do it alone. I’m here... We’re here for you. I know Murph feels the same way.”

You press your lips together and close your eyes, seemingly to keep the tears at bay, but one finally slips from the corner of your eye and down your cheek. Javier brushes it aside with his thumb, tender and careful. You rush forward then, burying your face in his chest, and Javier’s arms immediately come around you. You both just stand there, holding each other and breathing for a few moments as you let silent tears fall onto his t-shirt.

“I’m used to being on my own, you know?” You start, sniffling, and Javier feels you speak against his chest more than hears you. “Even after all these years of working with you guys, I don’t think I fully understand the concept of others caring for me. I’m not used to it.”

“You should, because we’re not going anywhere. Just… don’t shut us out. Don’t shut me out anymore.”

Your voice is small when you reply, but he hears the promise you make with it clear as day.

“I won’t.”

Neither one of you wants to let go of the embrace just yet, so Javier lets his chin rest on top of your head, closing his eyes and listening to your breaths calming as he holds you close.

“I nearly beat him up, you know.”

You almost headbutt him with how fast you pull back, mouth agape as you look up at him. “Javier…” you gasp scandalously, and there’s a small, incredulous smile tugging at the corner of your lips that makes Javier’s heart skip a few beats. He shrugs nonchalantly.

“Just had a little chat with him, that’s all. Senior to junior agent.”

“Oh, taking advantage of that seniority, huh, viejo?”

Javier narrows his eyes at you, and you laugh lightly at him. “You do more for me than you know, Javi,” you sigh, bringing the back of your knuckles to graze his cheek. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to sweep me off my feet after all these years.”

“Maybe I am,” he replies smoothly, so much so that it startles him and you with how easily he confesses.

The gaping pit in Javier’s stomach eases just the slightest bit at hearing you laugh, like, actually belly-laugh at the ridiculousness of how this whole evening played out. Probably delirium too, but Javier doesn’t mind one bit as you bring your soft gaze back to him. It holds so much promise, so much care, and Javi decides he’ll scare the shit out of you time and time again if he gets to be looked at like that for the rest of his life.

You shake your head at him fondly, and he realizes he’s been staring down at you, lost in thought. “What are you doing?”

“Something I should’ve done a long time ago,” he says, already leaning forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Any thoughts, comments, or feedback would be so appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it! <3


End file.
